by Eric Asher
Alice blew out a breath. “If it keeps Fel from attacking Bollwerk? I’m sure he’ll be happy to send you as many parts as you want.”
Jacob didn’t doubt Alice was right about that.
Smith clicked the transmitter in his collar. Nothing came back but static. He frowned. “Too far underground. Let us get these people back to the surface. I have not heard an explosion in some time. I suspect The Ray has done its work.”
* * *
They stood at the edge of the city where the bomber had crashed. Nothing had survived the impact, and the sands themselves had been scorched into glass, trapping the burnt remains of buildings and soldiers alike beneath the debris.
“Ash upon ash,” Gladys said, the wind catching her cloak and revealing a torn sleeve. “We will rebuild again and again until Mordair has been thrown down and we can live in peace.”
“Sometimes, I think it would be easier to move elsewhere,” Helena said, looking toward the wound cut through Midstream.
“It would be,” Gladys said. “But I wouldn’t want to be the leader who abandoned our home. Our history is here, and no man, no king, will take that from us.”
Smith’s transmitter crackled, hard to hear in the gust of wind.
“Understood.” Smith turned to Gladys as he released his transmitter. “Mary talked to George. The passengers voted unanimously to return to the city.”
Gladys’s shoulders slumped a hair. “Oh, good. Almost all of our builders were with George. I was afraid I’d have to rely on Jacob and Helena to rebuild everything.”
Jacob blinked at that.
Gladys started to speak and then paused, raising her hand to shield her eyes. “A little late, I’d say.”
Jacob followed her gaze. Looming behind the two small ships floated one of Bollwerk’s warships. It was a terrifying vision. As large as Fel’s bomber had been, the warship dwarfed it by magnitudes. More than once, he’d heard the warships referred to as floating cities, and that was the best description Jacob could think of.
“Come on,” Gladys muttered, stalking toward the ship as it fired anchoring harpoons into the foothills. “It’s time to have a talk with Archibald.”
* * *
Jacob could tell Gladys was disappointed that Archibald himself wasn’t on Warship One. But that didn’t slow her down. She cut the captain off mid-sentence as he tried to explain why they hadn’t arrived earlier, and made her way back into the city. Mary had docked in the mountains, and Jacob was somewhat surprised to hear The Ray had anchored there too.
Smith and Helena left to help George at the docks, but Jacob, Alice, and Furi stayed behind with Gladys. They crossed a section of street that the bomber hadn’t entirely demolished, and Gladys led them back to George’s home.
Inside, she pulled the transmitter from the shelf and switched the dial.
“Archibald. This is Gladys. Archibald.”
The transmitter crackled, and Archibald sounded like he might be out of breath. “Gladys, thank the gods. George said you hadn’t gotten out.”
“I didn’t. Your warship just arrived. Nearly an hour late, I might add.”
Archibald remained silent for a time, and Jacob had heard his placating tone before. “I apologize for that, but as you know, the warships are not built to be quick vessels. For the time being, it will remain anchored at Midstream. Should Fel strike at you again, they will be driven back.”
Gladys nodded. “Good. I need more of those Titan Mech arms Jacob built. How fast can you get them to me?”
“Our smiths are currently building several. I will have two of them mounted on crawlers and brought to Midstream within the week.”
“The last one only took a couple days,” Jacob said.
Gladys hesitated. “Make it two days, Archibald. We lost a block across the entire city. We’ll need to clear the debris and rebuild.”
“It will be done. You’ll have more materials on the next supply ship as well. I would recommend rebuilding the outskirts with metal. I know it is not traditional, but it will give you better shelter.”
“Send the framework for a bunker too. The tunnels that lead to our wells will need reinforcement. If we lose access to water, rebuilding won’t matter anyway. And Archibald, this is no favor to me. Midstream will pay you for your goods, even if we cannot repay you for the warship’s presence.”
“You owe no favor, Princess. Watch for us in two days’ time. Speaker out.”
Gladys sighed and released the transmitter.
“He’s leaving the warship here for now,” Alice said. “That’s more than I expected.”
“It’s more than I hoped,” Gladys said with a brief smile. “But don’t tell him that. He may not think I see his broader plans for using us as a shield, but I do. And I’ll take what I can from it to help my city.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
They sat around a bonfire that evening, near the northern edge of the city, where the remains of six armored crawlers had fallen still. Many homes had been lost to the bombing, but the hospital in the west had been spared and had plenty of beds for those who wanted to stay in the city.
Others left for the warship. Several of the children from Midstream were excited to see one of the massive vessels up close. Jacob remembered that sense of wonder. It didn’t feel like that long ago when he’d marvel at almost any kind of technology he didn’t understand.
But now things had changed. Now, when he didn’t understand something, he’d want to take it apart and learn its secrets for himself. Charles had taught him some of that, he knew. A useful curiosity, the old man would call it, because curiosity without action didn’t bring understanding.
His bandage had been removed by a local doctor. The process of prying the dried blood out of his hair, sterilizing the wound, and stitching it closed had been less pleasant than being knocked out in the first place. He gently prodded at the edge of the bandage, only to get his hand slapped by Alice.
“Stop touching it. You’re going to get it infected.”
Jacob grinned at her.
“Tell me about Ballern,” Gladys said to Furi.
Furi sipped at her soup and pursed her lips. “Well, from what I’ve learned here, it sounds a lot like Fel. I mean, I guess Fel is more open about ruling with an iron fist, but Ballern isn’t so different.”
“I thought Ballern was divided into districts like Belldorn?” Gladys said. “Where they had representatives of the various districts meet in the courts.”
Furi shook her head. “Technically, they do, but the monarchy has overridden them so many times they might as well not exist. I think they just keep doing it because it looks better to the outside world. But, honestly, they’re just as bad as Fel. One ruler sets the laws and breaks them as they please.”
“Like what the Butcher did to Ancora,” Alice said quietly. “We always had Parliament to keep things fair. Until we didn’t.”
“Parliament!” Gladys said with a laugh. “Please, they kept the Lowlands as poor as they could. How else could the Highlands control them? And that wasn’t new with the Butcher’s manipulation. George told me that’s how your city has been for a century.”
“It still sounds nicer than Ballern,” Furi said. “We’ve been overrun from the inside by a religion that worships old machines in the west.”
Alice nodded. “Well, that is somewhat insane. And they really think their machines are guarded by mutants and horrors?”
“Holy mutants,” Furi muttered. “The Children of the Dark Fire are a disease in themselves, and most of Ballern doesn’t know what they’ve done. I’m afraid Ballern will have to be broken to ever get rid of them.”
“What do you mean?” Jacob asked.
“I think Ballern will have to go to war with itself. And I don’t know if those of us who are sane can win that fight. Some of their symbols are etched into our coins now. If you’ve ever seen a king’s crown, that trapezoid on the back represents the Great Machines. I never even realized that until Alice
and I went snooping through the library.”
“It wasn’t snooping.” Alice passed a block of salted meat to Furi that one of Gladys’s people had brought them for food. “We were there with permission from the lady herself.”
Furi laughed. “That was an accident. You didn’t expect her to be at Mary’s any more than I did.”
“Well, no, but still, she gave her blessing.”
“You met the Lady Katherine?” Gladys asked, arching an eyebrow.
Furi grinned at that. The bonfire crackled and sparked, casting shadows among the gathered groups.
“I’d like to see the library one day,” Jacob said.
Alice scooted closer and put her arm around his waist. “You’d love it. It’s as tall as the Highland walls and filled with books from top to bottom.”
“I can’t even imagine that.”
“Neither could I.”
“What’s Midstream like?” Furi asked, turning to Gladys. “How do you rule here?”
Gladys looked off into the distance for a moment. “For a long time, I didn’t. We hid in Bollwerk while the warlords ran the desert. That all changed when one of them abducted me, and Alice killed him.”
“It was a bit more complicated than that,” Alice said.
Furi blinked. “And, how will you rule?”
“Like my parents did,” Gladys said. “I have four advisors, those closest to me, who are both guards and consults. It is a monarchy of sorts, but I listen to my people. And should I ever choose to stop listening, my family will be removed from the throne and a more benevolent ruler installed. It’s a rare thing, but it’s happened twice in our history. Those who report to the council must be unanimous in their request.”
“But still, it can be done,” Furi said. “I like that. It compels you to do the right thing and gives your people a sense that they have some say in their city.”
Gladys nodded. “As they should. It’s home to all of us.”
Furi sighed and peeled a strip of meat from the block she’d been whittling. “I like some things about Ballern, but maybe I’ll just move here instead.”
“You should come for the Fire Lizard migration, at least,” Gladys said. “It’s one of the only times they gather in groups, and you can see their flames all across the horizon as they migrate between the Burning Forest and the Bay of Sorrow.”
“I’d like that,” Furi said. “I’d like that a lot.”
* * *
After some rest and food, Jacob and Alice made their way to the dry riverbed. It was jarring to see the sand and stone displaced by explosions from the bomber. Just twelve hours before it had been undisturbed but for the traps they’d laid.
“Wow,” Alice said, climbing into the driver’s seat of the Mech arm. “You really built this.”
“Well, I had some help. A lot of help, actually. Frederick is pretty amazing. I still can’t believe he came all the way from Belldorn to help build the arms.
“How many are there now?”
Jacob shrugged. “Four, I guess?” He studied the panels and joints that had broken off the one they were in. “Three and a half?”
Alice looked at the ground and laughed. “Yes, well, I suppose this one has seen better days.”
“Can you pull that lever on the right to lower the arm? I want to take a closer look at the damage.”
Jacob winced at the grinding sound the arm made as Alice lowered it. If he was lucky, some debris was just working its way past the gears. If he wasn’t lucky, they might have to remove the arm from the treads to work on it.
He hopped up into the palm of the Titan Mech’s hand. Of the four fingers, the smallest had taken the most damage. Its armor had been ripped away by the trap he’d fired, and a cannonball had blown apart the interior.
“We’ll need to replace two joints, and I’m not sure if there’s a workshop in Midstream that can handle it.”
Alice pointed to the sky.
“What?”
Alice stretched her arm up until Jacob’s gaze followed it to the massive airship floating above Midstream.
“Oh. That’s a good point.”
Alice grinned. “I’m pretty sure they’ll have anything you need to pull the arm apart.”
“And if they don’t, I can have Frederick send a lift with the next arm!”
“That sounds … Jacob,” Alice hissed. “Jacob, don’t move.”
He froze, slowly turning to see what Alice was looking at. To his credit, he didn’t scream when he found the titanic Tail Sword standing just behind him, its stinger raised to the sky. He had nothing to fend it off with, nowhere to run except perhaps to dive off the other side of the hand.
But this was the largest Tail Sword he’d ever seen. And he remembered what it had done to a crawler. It had to be nearly fifteen feet from tail to claw, and as he stared with a mixture of shock and horror, the Tail Sword started rubbing against the hand. The tail flattened out, and the creature shook itself.
It took Jacob a moment to realize what was happening. The Tail Sword wasn’t coming to attack them. It probably didn’t even realize they were there.
“It’s molting,” Jacob whispered back to Alice.
“Oh, that’s great. Now we can be its snacks when it’s done.”
“It won’t attack,” Jacob said, standing and slowly making his way to the seat beside Alice. “They’re vulnerable after they molt.”
“Pretty sure we’re more vulnerable.”
Jacob grinned at Alice. “We’re safe.”
Alice wrapped her hands around his arm and leaned closer. “You know, some of the desert clans used to make their armor out of Tail Sword shells.”
“Some of them still do,” Jacob said. “When we were underground, more than one guard had armor carved out of chitin.”
They watched the Tail Sword as it slowly backed out of its exoskeleton. It looked oddly pale, but Jacob knew it would darken as the days passed. The Tail Sword sat motionless for a time, its body rising and falling with its breath before it scurried off toward the larger sand dunes.
Alice leaned over to look down at the long stretch of exoskeleton the Tail Sword had left. “Well, I think they’ll have enough to make some new armor now.”
Jacob squeezed her closer and looked up at the stars. Midstream didn’t have city lights like Ancora and Bollwerk, and the view was spectacular. Distant nebulae and galaxies drifted behind the stars above them. And for a moment, Jacob felt peace.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Mordair waited impatiently for his general to finish the report. The loss was more substantial than he’d expected. Over a dozen armored crawlers, four schooners, and a bomber. The bomber surprised him more than anything. For a ship of that size to be taken down, something must have penetrated the holds and triggered the bombs before they were utilized.
Someone would need to have been very lucky, or have a working knowledge of Fel’s warships. Mordair could deal with luck. But the idea that someone from Fel might have betrayed their city darkened his thoughts.
“And what of the casualties?” Mordair asked, tapping his finger on the arm of the throne as he interrupted the general’s report.
“Severe. Close to eighty percent of those deployed did not return.”
Mordair’s tapping stopped. “Schedule a rally for tomorrow. Those soldiers died heroes, martyrs for our great cause, and the people of Fel will know it. Donate five thousand bars to each family.”
“Five … five thousand, my king?”
“Yes. This is not the time to have our people question the validity of this war simply because their friends and family have died. Pay them for their loss, and we will remember them with the greatest honors a king can bestow.”
“And for those who do not … see in the proper way?”
“Eliminate them.”
“Exile, my king?”
“Execution. Blame them for the plague the mountainfolk are battling and burn them.”
The general gestured to one of th
e guards standing by the sharp gray stone closest to the king. The general handed the guard a note scribbled on a thin pad of parchment. “Get this to the lieutenants. Have them secure the gold from the vaults.”
Mordair held up a finger. “Leave the gold in the vaults. Take it from the common bank.”
“My king, those taxes are for the restoration and maintenance of—”
“Of course. Be sure to increase our takings for the next quarter. We’ll need to recover the gold we used to purchase the allegiance of the families.”
The general took a deep breath and passed the note to the guard. “Go now.”
After a short bow, the guard left, his armored boots rattling across the stone floor.
“Archibald means to protect Midstream,” Mordair said. “I know his mind well enough. He seeks a return to the brutality of the Deadlands War. And he shall have it.”
CHAPTER FORTY
The next morning, Jacob found himself back on the arm of the Titan Mech with a set of tools from a Midstream tinker. He’d managed to get the first joint of the broken finger off by himself, and one of Gladys’s tinkers was working on rebuilding the exterior for him. If all went well, he thought they’d be able to start building with the arm again by midday.
Jacob wiped a line of sweat from his brow and leaned into the ratchet. It finally budged when he slid an extension over the handle and put all of his body weight into it, digging into the flesh of his hands. It shouldn’t have been that tight, and he suspected the bolt had been bent in the battle. He grumbled to himself and hopped down to the toolbox. The repair would have been a thousand times easier if he’d had the bay at Bollwerk, or even the workshop.
But transporting the arm back to Bollwerk, or to the warship, would take more time than it would save. He found what he was looking for in the bottom of the toolbox: a strange cylinder with abrasive metal inside.
Jacob climbed back up onto the hand and slid the sander over the end of the bolt before tightening it against the threads. It was a hand crank, so it would take some time, but time he had.